


Bottom of a Phone Booth

by commas_and_ampersands



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M, First Meetings, For a Given Value of Meet and Also Cute, Meet-Cute, Reincarnation, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2020-01-22 19:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18533743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commas_and_ampersands/pseuds/commas_and_ampersands
Summary: He wouldn't call himself a careless man, and neither would anyone else who had ever had the experience of meeting him, bumping into him, or glancing at him from across a crowded room.





	Bottom of a Phone Booth

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written November 2006. Some revisions April 2019.
> 
> Takehiko is a name that was given to Kunzite's reincarnation in [The Exiles](http://www.dotmoon.net/library_view.php?storyid=9) by Starsea. I liked it so much, I stole it and continued to steal it with permission because seriously, it's a good name.

 

Takehiko wouldn't call himself a careless man, and neither would anyone else who had ever had the experience of meeting him, bumping into him, or glancing at him from across a crowded room.  Anyone could instantly tell that Takehiko was careful and that he never did or said anything without thoroughly thinking it through.  It was part of what made him an adept leader and successful in nearly everything he attempted.  He was not a man who made many mistakes.

And that was why he was so annoyed when his cell phone battery died in the middle of a phone conversation that, while not vitally important, was not one that he wanted to have cut off.

He looked down at the small device, shaking his head.  He couldn't recall ever having had this problem before, and that was because he always plugged his cell phone in to charge the moment he got to his flat at the end of the day.  He had done so without fail ever since he had gotten a cell phone, and he couldn't think of why he hadn't done so the day before.  He certainly thought that he had plugged it in, but then two of his three roommates had gotten exceptionally violent over a game of Risk, so maybe he'd been distracted.

An irritating situation, but not catastrophic.  After all, there was still such a thing as a pay phone, and he was armed with change and a phone card in case of such a situation.  So Takehiko put his dead cell phone into the pocket of his trench coat without fuss and began looking for a phone booth to continue the call.

It took him awhile to locate one that wasn't occupied, a fact that didn't quite surprise him but still gave him cause to take notice.  He happened to pass what looked like a very important business man making a very important call on very important manners, a mother out with three children who thought that the phone booth was a mini-playground, and a young girl who appeared to be in the middle of an argument.  After passing the last, he saw an empty booth on the next block.  He sighed in relief and began to walk forward, but he was stopped by the sound of a loud bang.

Takehiko turned to see that the girl slamming the phone into the receiver repeatedly.  On the fourth slam, she held it steady with an almost vice-like grip.  Then her shoulders shook as her back slumped against the glass.  She slid down to the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest.  She was clearly crying.

Takehiko looked on for a moment, noting that the girl was getting a number of looks from passers by (and that he was getting a number of looks for obstructing foot traffic).  He also noted that no one was stopping to help her.  He didn't know whether it would be appreciated or not, but he didn't want to go on about his business without seeing if she was okay.

He strode forward and reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief.  He rapped on the window, but she didn't appear to hear him over the sound of a particularly loud sob.  He thought of knocking again, but he decided against it.  Instead, he slid the door open and crouched down before she could look up and see him towering over her.  She still didn't seem to notice him, so he cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me, miss?"

She looked up, and Takehiko had no idea how he kept his balance.

It was _her_.  He had no idea how he had been so blind as to miss it, but he had.  And now he was sitting in front of her - the leader of the Sailor Senshi, his murderer twice over, and a woman who he'd... who had meant a great deal to him once.  She still did, even though he had never met her, and he did not know her name.

Reincarnation did have a habit of complicating matters.

She stared at him staring at her and then instantly became self-conscious.  She wiped at her eyes hastily and began to get to her feet, though she was having considerable trouble given the lack of maneuvering room and her green spike heels.  She seemed embarrassed (and he had never once seen her embarrassed; that expression didn't belong on her face, except he didn't know that, not really, and it didn't do to think like this) on top of her grief.  He felt a pang for having caused any of it.  "Do you need the phone?  I'm so sorry.  I shouldn't be-"

"No," he said quickly, regretting the volume of his voice when she jumped.  Takehiko paused, quickly struggling to regain control.  He didn't sigh at his own awkwardness (a sensation he was neither used to nor comfortable with, but one he ought to have expected, given the circumstance), but he almost wanted to.  "I don't need the phone.  I just wanted to see if you were all right."  He held his arm out, offering her the handkerchief.

She stared at the bit of cloth and then back up at him again.  Then she laughed, still miserable, causing a few more tears to fall down her cheeks.  It was smearing her eye make-up, but he was paying more attention to her eyes. They were solid blue now, a lighter hue than any he'd ever seen before.  He could remember when they had had gold rays extending out from the pupil.  They had glowed when she was exceptionally emotional and during… other.  More amorous activities.

He cleared his throat out and almost missed what she said.

"Evidence of chivalry?  Someone certainly has a twisted sense of humor," she observed, sniffling.  She brought a hand up to take it, but she hesitated at the last moment.

Takehiko noticed that she had a fresh manicure, but she had picked off some of the nail polish.  There were flecks of red on her skirt.  "Take it."

After a moment, she acquiesced with a shake of her head.  She dabbed at her eyes, wiping the black smudges and tear trails away.  "I warn you now.  I am trying not to blow my nose because that would result in the inevitable awkward moment where I go to give this back, and you have to turn it down because it's just gross.  But I don't know how much longer that resolve is going to last."

Takehiko chuckled, briefly amazed at how she could joke when she was clearly in such distress.  He didn't think she would have done that Before.  Then again, she'd rarely if ever let him see her in distress at all Before, so perhaps that wasn't the best comparison.  "I have others," he assured her.  "I wouldn't know what to do with mascara stains anyway."

She winced.  "I'm so sorry.  Oh, and look, it's monogrammed, so you're like.  That kind of person.  With nice things that I've gone and ruined.  And I look ridiculous."

"Don't apologize," he said, the almost stern sincerity in his voice clearly taking her off guard once again.  He had to fight another wince.  He could start behaving normally any time at all now, really.  "I told you.  I have others."

She sniffed again but it wasn't doing the trick anymore.  She blew her nose as daintily possible, keeping her eyes on him at all times.  A moment later, she reached over to her purse at her side and began frantically looking around for something no doubt buried at the bottom.  "You're just saying that because you already knew you weren't going to get it back when all this started."  She finally pulled out a star-shaped rose gold compact and held it up to her face.  She groaned.  "I was wrong.  I look worse than ridiculous.  I would give my eye teeth to just look ridiculous, and I don't even know which teeth those are."

Takehiko felt a pang that took him off guard, but he knew it couldn't be helped.  He had never enjoyed watching anyone look down on themselves, and this was no exception.  He could have told her that how she looked was the least of her concerns, or more accurately, that she hardly owed it to him or anyone else to look a certain way.  But her vanity, it seemed, was a consistent feature between Before and Now.

He'd known how to flatter her once.

"Ridiculous-looking women do not often have men worrying about their well-being even before names have been exchanged."

She blushed lightly, and her lips curled into a small grin.

He returned the smile, aware he felt far too pleased with himself.

She ran her eyes over him, cataloging his looks and build.  Her smile took on a slightly more coquettish edge; apparently she liked what she'd seen.  "Do you say that to every girl you find in hysterics at the bottom of a phone booth?"

He couldn't help but smile back at her.  "Only the blondes," he said.  "Now, please don't take this as a comment on your company, but this position is rather painful to hold, so would you mind if we…?" he trailed off, gesturing the remainder of his sentence.

"Oh.  Right," she said.  Takehiko offered her a hand to help her stand before she could begin to flail about.  She looked startled, as if it might bite her, or perhaps as if she wasn't used to that level of consideration.  Before he could decide, she wiped the expression off her face and placed her palm in his.

He didn't feel any sort of electric, fated jolt between them.  He hadn't expected it, so he wasn't disappointed exactly.  It was more that their linked hands, all these centuries later, somehow managed to feel familiar.  He'd have almost preferred the pure romantic comedy cliche.  Instead, his insides churned with a jumble of homesickness and homecoming, connection and loneliness, and giddy melancholy.  All of that and more alongside the thrumming attraction to her he'd never been able to discard.  He felt dizzy with it, and firmly set his jaw to keep all of that locked away.

Her eyes widened when he straightened to his full height.  "Yes?"

"Nothing," she said, too quickly.  "It's just.  You're very.  Tall."  Her face shuttered as he crouched to retrieve her bag.  "And the inane comment of the day award goes to, drum roll please, Aino Minako.  Please, please no autographs."

He chuckled and pressed her purse back into her hands.  "Don't worry. It surprises everyone who meets me while I'm sitting.  Or in your case, crouched."

She twirled the end of her French braid around her finger.  "It's a nice surprise.  Do I get to know your name?"

He considered her question for a moment, which seemed to amuse her.

"What?  Did you not write it enough in kindergarten?  Ooh, or are you a spy trying to remember their cover?  I like that one better, I should have led with it."

That was nearer to the mark than she could have possibly believed, but he could hardly tell her that.  "I'm Takehiko."

She waited for him to finish and pouted when he didn't.  "I don't get a last name?"

"That's for next time," Takehiko said, bowing lightly.  He keenly felt the pause where he would have saluted her, acknowledging their equal military rank and her superior royal one.  Or perhaps he felt the absences of the more intimate gestures they'd exchanged later on.  Regardless, he pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.  He needed to exit.  "Be sure to tell your boyfriend that a very tall man thinks he shouldn't make pretty girls cry at the bottom of phone booths."

She gave a funny little huff of outrage, and he was a little sad that his back was turned to it. "Wait!  How do you know there'll even be a next time?" 

He thought of answering her, but he decided against it.   He chuckled when he heard her continue to sputter in outrage and then stalk off in the opposite direction.

A few minutes later, he came upon another empty phone booth.  He stepped in and swiped his phone card efficiently.  He dialed the newly memorized number and waited.

After three rings, Mamoru picked up.  "Finally.  It's been almost thirty minutes.  What happened to you?"

"Phone died," Takehiko said, injecting the apology into his voice so that it didn't sound as curt as it could have.  He leaned his shoulder against the glass, imagining he could still smell the lingering hints of her perfume.  "In more interesting news, guess who I just ran into?"


End file.
